The Projects

Bailey and Lex were proud of the fact their neighborhood was in the projects They were pioneers, venturing into a dangerous frontier to make this part of the city livable again. Whenever they entertained houseguests--an infrequent occurrence since most of their friends were too scared to visit this part of town--they always mentioned the sacrifices they were making for the greater good.

Projects was a good name. Something like an experiment. Something only the bravest couples dared participate in.

Most of the time, Bailey and Lex endured their hardships stoically. But sometimes they missed having a Starbucks nearby.

For the prompt Frontier

Sawdust

In 1870, no town in the Wild West was as dangerous or dusty as Sawdust, Nevada. Public drunkenness, gunfights in the main street, and rotting buildings - that was Sawdust.

For every drunken gunfighter there were several termites. Moe, Curly, and Mel were three of them. Al was the termite boss.

Termites build multi-tiered mounds.

“Moe, you're working on the back tier… Curly, you're in the middle…”

Al twisted his antennae.

“Mel, you're on the front tier.”

“Please, not the Frontier.”

“I said the front tier… But wait a minute…”

He knew Mel. Maybe he should send Mel into downtown Sawdust…

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

For the prompt Frontier

When Life Gives You Lemons

While Burt created a wedding cake, the radio crackled. “Evacuate, citizens!” a voice shouted. “An asteroid will hit us in ninety minutes and could flatten the town!”

“I’ve never let a bride down,” Burt muttered. “However, my notes are unclear on whether to do strawberry or lemon filling.”

The asteroid lowered itself through the clouds, blocking out the sun; its cratered face peered through the bakery’s window.

“Lemon,” it rumbled. “Bride not coming.”

“Okay,” Burt said.

When the cake was finished, it slipped through a sinkhole.

After the dust cleared, parts of the town were destroyed. The bakery remained standing.

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

The Fade

The village of Walter's Blessing has been abandoned for more than two decades, ever since The Fade.

No one talks about The Fade. Occasionally, out-of-towners in the vicinity will visit with all kinds of stories, asking about what really happened. The locals know to keep their mouths shut.

The truth about The Fade is too awful to contemplate. Not only because no town should have to suffer what Walter's Blessing suffered. What is truly frightening is that the same thing is happening to hamlets, townships, and settlements all over the country. If you aren't careful, your home might be next.

Filmgoers

Many winters ago the blizzard buried Negotin in white noise. Snow sealed doors, and the wind was sending SOS signals all over the town. Power lines were lying in the fields, houses went blind and breath turned to frost.

Only the old cinema stood like a lone lighthouse against the storm. Its generator pulsated like a tired heart. The theater was full, but no one spoke. When the movie began, I realized the actors were the audience themselves, levitating across the screen.

Slowly, the faceless crowd turned toward me. They weren’t watching the movie.

They wanted me to stay forever.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

The Neighborhood Speakeasy

Earl's Blind Tiger served as the chief gathering place for the town of Hanover. Old men who liked to share memories, lonely men looking for companionship, and young men wanting to prove themselves worthy all frequented the speakeasy on a nightly basis. In addition to the liquor, drama was nearly always on the menu, in the form of fisticuffs and bar sports. Earl knew that more conflict led to more alcohol being sold and more money in his pocket.

Now if only there was a woman or two willing to enter his place, Earl might be able to retire soon.

Muted

Late one night in a foreign town, I walked past two men just inside a dark alley. The larger one had the other pushed up against a wall with a knife under his chin. The smaller man looked at me with pleading, terror-filled eyes. When the larger man jerked to follow his gaze, I hurried beyond them up the street. No one else was around to turn to for help. I had no cell phone and no idea where the nearest police station was. So I just continued on my way, hands trembling, head down: voiceless, derelict, abandoning all rectitude.

From Guest Contributor William Cass

Moody

The twilight sky blazed with attitude, warning everyone to speed indoors. The clouds hung ominously low on the horizon, pink, black, orange, and grey clashing together as darkness settled over the town. Rain, lightning, and even tornadoes were all possible tonight, like a sleep-deprived toddler on too much sugar.

Ben turned his collar up and sank his hands into his coat pockets, but otherwise meandered on, his attention entirely concentrated on the argument he was running away from. Rather than confront his wife with what he knew, or thought he knew anyway, he'd just keep walking towards the sun.

Parade

The parade marched, danced, and pranced down Main Street, the entire town joining in a festive orgasm of delight. The inclusive nature of the procession meant that everyone was assigned to one of several variegated assemblies. There was a troop of cheerleaders, sports teams, amateur acrobats, and dancing animal costumes. Strangely, everyone was carrying their own tuba, and the deep blasts rebounded off the stone edifices and pavement majestically.

Upon reaching one end of the town, the entire cavalcade turned about and headed in the opposite direction. This continued ad nauseam until everyone was dead.

The Pied Piper strikes again.

Lost Children

One morning, the adults of Sycamore woke up to find that all of the children had disappeared. There were no signs of abduction or notes left behind and, even more curious, it appeared that many of them had packed bags of clothes and favorite belongings before they departed.

A meeting was convened. An argument ensued. The parents blamed the police. The police blamed the parents. Rivals and political adversaries threatened violence. The fault lines of the town were laid bare.

Eventually, a letter arrived. It read:

"To our parents,

Get your shit together or we're never coming back.

-Your children"